A British Immigrant's View of New Zealand

Monthly Archives: June 2016

Last week, out of the blue, I was asked to “appear” on Radio NZ. They needed a British expat to talk about Brexit, and I can only assume Google led them to this blog.

Okay.

I wasn’t exactly an expert, but I agreed. I figured it would be the most interesting thing to happen to me all week. I did tell them that I was only ten years old when I moved to New Zealand, and had therefore never been registered to vote in Britain in my life, let alone in the last fifteen years. This meant I was unable to actually vote on the EU referendum. (My mum was still eligible – just, but didn’t feel it was her place to.) They still wanted me, so I hurriedly set about doing some research.

Not getting a say in Brexit, I hadn’t thought too deeply about it. I was vaguely aware of the disturbingly racist turn things were taking, and of the exaggerated threats of a financial Armageddon turning into the actual Armageddon, but I hadn’t thought far beyond how it would impact upon me directly: I’d rather not give up my EU passport, thank you very much! I like having the option of living and working indefinitely – hassle-free – on “the Continent”. In fact, my New Zealand-born, German-bred boyfriend and I attempted to do just that a couple of years ago. (We only returned to New Zealand because his mum was diagnosed with terminal cancer.)

I realised, of course, that it was selfish to think this way. If I’d believed that it was in Britain’s best interests to leave the EU, (and if, of course, if I’d been able to vote,) I would have voted Leave. After doing some proper research, however, I did not believe that leaving the EU was in Britain’s best interests. When pretty much every expert in the world says it’s a bad idea, and when Nigel Farage and Donald Trump think it’s a good idea… it probably isn’t a good idea.

During the course of my research, I became seriously disheartened. The lies of the politicians, the stupidity of the people, the crass xenophobia suddenly given not just a voice, but a megaphone… I do realise there were perfectly good reasons to leave the EU, and if you’re one of the many perfectly nice, non-racist people who actually thought about their vote with some degree of intelligence, fair enough, and I have no qualms with you. The thing is, the more I researched, the more I came to realise that the worst outcome wasn’t leaving the EU: the worst outcome had already happened.

The atmosphere that this whole Brexit debacle has awoken in Britain is bloody terrifying. Watching from New Zealand, I’m seeing scenes reminiscent of 1930s Germany. Does the human race never learn anything?! The insidious fear-mongering is simply disgusting. Aggressive, pig-headed nationalism isn’t a good look for any country and, surely, we all know where it leads. Human beings should be working together for peace, not demonising anyone with a different accent! As an immigrant myself, I can sympathise and it’s scary.

I always thought my homeland was one of the saner places in the world. Well there goes my innocence.

I watched the votes being counted on the BBC website all throughout last Friday afternoon. (It was the middle of the night in Britain.) I became increasingly nervous, not just because I was waiting to go on the radio and make complete tit of myself, but because Leave was winning. That wasn’t supposed to happen! What about Scotland?

“Don’t worry,” I said half-jokingly to a friend on Facebook. “Scotland will save us!”

The thing is, I have four hundred Facebook friends. (When you move around a lot that tends to happen.) Of those four hundred, only two (that I saw) expressed a desire for Britain to leave the EU. Now, my friends are, naturally, made up of mostly people of a similar age to myself, i.e. young people. They are mostly either:

Brits living in Britain

Brits living/studying in other European countries

Brits living in New Zealand

New Zealanders living in New Zealand

New Zealanders living in Britain

When the result of the vote was announced, my Facebook wall was flooded with dismay. People weren’t just disappointed, they were angry and scared. Some of them – New Zealanders, obviously – were amused. (You know, watching Britain tear itself apart is funny.) Being mostly young people, it’s not surprising that the vast majority of my friends wanted Britain to remain in EU. The vast majority of young people who voted in the referendum voted Remain. Forgive us for being optimistic.

Young people are often called selfish by the older generation, yet my generation is, so far, the most tolerant, open and accepting of any in history. We celebrate diversity. Most of us have been brought up with the message that love is love. We want to live in peace. We want the world to live as one. (Not in a homogenised way, in an inclusive way.) We want to look outwards, and out for each other.

To me, the entire Brexit thing was deeply demoralising. A sad, ironic version of John Lennon’s Imagine has been looping in my mind since Friday. I’ve seen the young voters criticised as idealists – well, bloody hell! What’s wrong with striving to live in an ideal world? As soon as you give up striving, you slide backwards and history repeats itself!

And I really don’t want history to repeat itself now we’ve got nuclear arsenals.

You know, I’m not a hippy. I’ve never particularly loved John Lennon. I’ve always enjoyed his music in the background, but, until these last few days, it’s never brought tears to my eyes.

You may say I’m a dreamer

But I’m not the only one

I hope someday you’ll join us

And the world will live as one

Remember, older generation? Remember when you loved that song? You used to be young and hopeful like us. I know your experience of the world since has made you cynical. Made you want to protect your own with no room for anyone else. Back when you had nothing, you were perfectly happy to share. Why aren’t you now?

Of course, I know the answer to that. And it is disheartening.

But anyway, here’s a link to my radio thing if any of you are interested. I didn’t quite manage to say what I wanted to say. You’ll probably be able to tell by my voice that the phone was shaking in my hand. You’ll definitely be able to tell that the final question threw me – what do you think of the answer I gave? (Also, my mum said I sounded Kiwi! I don’t, do I?)

I want to make it clear that, although I said Brexit was “a bit of a bum result for young people”, I’m not one of those young people railing at old people for forcing us into a future we don’t want. Yes, something like 75% of young people voted to remain in the EU, but less than half of them actually bothered to vote in first place. Which is just another reason to feel disheartened.

Meanwhile, the Brexit vote has reignited New Zealand’s flag debate. (If anyone thought that referendum was bad…) It’s also ignited a new republic debate. What’s the point, many Kiwis are asking, of staying in the commonwealth if Britain will no longer be our gateway to Europe? Many British expats in New Zealand are now saying, well, we may as well get New Zealand passports then. (Their British passports won’t be superior for much longer.) Many here are sharing the joke that Brits can no longer call Americans stupid. (But, of course, America has a Trump card.) I’m just sitting here feeling physically sick at the thought of Nigel Farage happy.

Britain doesn’t look like a nice place to be at the moment. I’m glad I’m in New Zealand.

Have you ever visited somewhere so unique that you rave about it years later? It’s been six years since my family went to New Zealand’s White Island, and I still find myself thinking about it and talking about how amazing it is. I can’t believe how few of my friends have been!

White Island is an active volcano out in the Bay of Plenty. It’s a small island, but it looms large in my memory. I remember the huge clouds of dense, white steam billowing from it as we approached in the ferry. It was so exciting, like coming upon a lost world. We’d already been treated to the sight of dolphins that day – they’d surrounded our ferry as we left Whakatane and played with us for so long we almost forgot where we were going – so, as you can imagine, things were pretty magical.

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When you’re an immigrant, you spend a lot of time at the airport, picking up visiting relatives. I’ve been to Auckland Airport many times, but I never knew about the important archaeological site right next to it! The Otuataua Stonefields are a potential World Heritage Site and they’re woefully underappreciated. I only learned of their existence because I stumbled upon this webpage whilst researching another article. Of course, I had to go.

As a Brit living in New Zealand, I miss seeing stone ruins and walls. Even though I left England at the age of ten, the sight of them still makes me sentimental. I went to a fellow British expat’s house a while back, and I found myself almost tearing up at the dry stone wall he’d built in his garden. Silly, I know. The Otuataua Stonefields feature dry stone walls built by nineteenth-century English settlers, but the site goes back much further than that.

It’s a little tricky to find, being kind of out of the way. You’d think a site of such significance would have large signs pointing to it. As we drove through Mangere towards Ihumatao Quarry Road, we began to see lots of signs of different sort: handmade signs protesting a new housing development – practically on top of the Otuataua Stonefields. Seriously? I know Auckland’s going through a housing crisis, but to build five hundred new properties in that particular place shows a serious lack of respect.

Ihumatao Village is the oldest settlement in Auckland. A twelfth-century shell midden was found on the nearby Puketutu Island, which is amongst the earliest evidence of human occupation New Zealand has. The descendants of those Polynesian pioneers still live in the area. To them, the land is sacred. The area upon which the houses will be built includes lava caves that were used as burial chambers, but those will apparently be protected, along with “many” of the historical stone walls – see this New Zealand Listener article.

As well as European dry stone walls, the Otuataua Stonefields Historic Reserve contains, among other features, the remains of kumara pits, sheltered gardens and ancient Maori buildings. It’s very beautiful to walk around, especially with the Manukau Harbour as a backdrop. I’d recommend wearing hiking boots, though. The paths are nothing more than narrow trails in the long grass, and the signposts are old and unclear. There’s a lot of up and down and stumbling.

The place could do with a bit of TLC. There was a bag of dog mess at the entrance, underneath an information board that looked a little worse for wear. It seems such a shame, because I really enjoyed walking around the Otuataua Stonefields. There’s even an avocado orchard that you’re allowed take avocadoes from! The reserve could be a wonderful tourist attraction, especially being so close to the airport, and it seems there were once plans to make it so.

To find out more about Ihumatao, the Otuataua Stonefields and the opposition to the housing development, see this website. I hope the peninsula isn’t ruined, and that the site eventually gets the respect it deserves. In the mean time, it’s still good to visit. If you’re into history, or just want to take a walk somewhere interesting with beautiful views, it’s a great place to kill an hour or two. It certainly satisfied my craving for dry stone walls!

I learnt a lot about the history of Auckland last weekend, both Maori and European. I walked across the Otuataua Stonefields, an archaeological site encompassing one of New Zealand’s earliest settlements, and I visited the Howick Historical Village. I greatly enjoyed my time at each of these places and definitely recommend including them on your New Zealand travels. I’ll talk about the historical village this week; the stonefields next week. So come on, grab your pretty, floral bonnets and step with me back in time to the Fencible Period.

You’re probably wondering, as you search for your pretty, floral bonnet, what on earth the Fencible Period is. Well I was just as confused as you are now, but one of the first things you see upon entering Howick Historical Village is a sign providing a helpful explanation. ‘Fencible’ comes from the word ‘defencible’. There were a few ‘Fencible’ settlements around Auckland, made up of retired British Empire soldiers and their families. The soldiers were offered free passage to New Zealand, land and a cottage in return for seven years of military service. If anyone were to attack Auckland, they’d have to come through the ‘Fencibles’ first.

Howick Historical Village comprises over thirty restored buildings from the mid-nineteenth century. The range of buildings is quite impressive, but the first place we headed for was the café at the entrance. (We’d just driven up from Hamilton and we were famished.) It’s a really good café, actually, with a nice verandah. I was with my partner, Tim. He’d already been to the village – on a school trip when he was a kid – and he wasn’t all that keen on going again. In the end, though, he was glad he did. He found it a lot better than he remembered, possibly because he’s able to appreciate the history more now.

There was hardly anyone in the village, as we arrived later in the day, so walking around it was lovely and peaceful. (Despite the rugby match going on next-door!) It cost us $15 each to get in, but it was worth every penny. It’s better, I think, than the Taranaki Pioneer Village, which is very similar. The map we were given at the beginning was clear and contained good information about each of the buildings. We spent about two hours going round, but we did read all the information boards quite thoroughly. Tales about people immigrating to New Zealand always resonate with me – I’m so glad we live in the 21st century!

The village was filled with lots of nice, little touches. In the schoolroom, for example, a somewhat creepy recording of children singing was playing. I didn’t know they used to have to sing their ABCs to the tune of God Save the Queen! While I liked having each building to ourselves, I wish we’d gone on a Live Day. On the third Sunday of every month, excluding December, the village comes to life, populated by costumed villagers. Tim knows a guy that does blacksmithing there. Oh, and you can have photos dressed up as well – how did I miss that? Dressing up in historical costumes is one of my favourite things to do!

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My name is Abigail Simpson. I was born in 1991 in England, but my family immigrated to New Zealand when I was ten years old. Writing is my passion. I currently write for a number of websites and accept commissions for various writing projects. You can find out more by visiting www.abigail-simpson.com.